


Of Lovers And Cuddly Bears

by Lion_owl



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, For an exchange, Garak is paranoid (scorethrough), Humour, I mean sensibly suspicious of course, In my head it's set early/mid series 3, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9352529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: “The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley” (often go awry)Awry (adj): if something goes awry, it does not go as expected or planned.Or: the one where Garak meets Kukalaka for the first time.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cosmo_is_Beink_Melon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cosmo_is_Beink_Melon/gifts).



> For the lovely Pris, who requested a Garashir plus Kukalaka fic in exchange for a sure-to-be-wonderful Worf/Odo art they’re making me.

 

Garak is woken – if it can be called that, he’s only semi conscious – by Julian untangling himself and getting out of bed. The parts of Garak that had previously had Julian under them fall onto the soft mattress and he lets them stay there; what kind of a time is it to be getting up anyway?

“Come back to bed,” he says, and it sounds like a whine, which was unbecoming of a Cardassian, especially one who used to be an aide to the most powerful man in the Union, but he’s so tired and half asleep that he doesn’t notice, much less care.

“I can’t,” Julian’s voice is apologetic but firm. “I have to be on duty in twenty minutes.” Once he’s dressed, he leans over and kisses Garak’s cheek gently. “You can stay here if you want.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Garak acknowledges into the pillow, breathing in the scent of his new lover, which is lingering on the grey fabric.

Julian laughs fondly. “See you later,” he says before slipping out of the door, but Garak doesn’t notice.

*

The computer signals an incoming transmission, and it acts as a rude awakening for Garak.

“Lights on,” he commands blearily, and the room is filled with an unbearable brightness. He’s sure that after Julian had discovered that Garak found the station too bright, he’d put in a priority request to have the lights in his quarters adjusted. So how is it now too bright?

Julian.

_Julian._

He’s in Julian’s quarters, Julian’s _bed._ He smiles, the previous night coming back to him. They’d been ‘officially’ in a relationship for almost a month, but Julian hadn’t wanted to rush things. Last night, though…

_Having dinner in Julian’s quarters, discussing some novel and flirting outrageously over it. Replicating a bottle of wine and taking their conversation over to the sofa, Garak sitting on it and Julian curled up, leaning his whole body up against Garak’s side, his head resting on Garak’s shoulder, each holding a glass of the rich burgundy drink in one hand, their other hands clasped together loosely._

_This was a pretty normal routine by now, and in an hour or two, they would part ways. But not tonight apparently; Julian leaned up slightly and twisted around to face him, leaning the side of his head against the back of the sofa so his face was mere centimetres from Garak’s own_

_“If you want to, I…” Julian said, his gaze flitting over to the door of the bedroom._

_“If you’re sure,” Garak said, his heartbeat speeding up just a little._

_“I’m sure,” Julian said, dropping a light, teasing kiss on the ridge that extends out of his ear._

_Wine glasses were abandoned to the coffee table as they stood and made their way to the other room._

He’d tried to get out and go back to his own quarters afterwards – falling asleep beside a sexual partner is after all a very dangerous habit not to be fallen into – but Julian had wrapped himself around him and whispered against his forehead that he promised not to kill him and against his better judgement Garak had given into the very strong temptation to stay.

He is pleased to wake up and find himself very much alive.

He is less pleased to realise Julian is no longer pressed against him.

“Computer, time.” he says.

“The time is oh eight twenty-six hours,” the mechanical voice informs him. Ah, Julian will be at work then. He remembers he needs to be at work too, that his shop needs reorganising and he has several fittings appointments, and groans.

He’s lying on the side of the bed which is pushed up against the wall, so he rolls over, intending to get out of the other side, and freezes.

Sitting on the other side of Julian’s pillow is – actually he’s not entirely sure what it is, but he could have sworn it wasn’t there last night. Perhaps it was, perhaps he had just been too distracted by exploring every gorgeous aspect of his lover’s smooth body, revealed to him for the first time…

Still, he eyes it with caution. It has what vaguely resembles a humanoid body, if a very small one, and it’s staring at him, its beady eyes a contradiction to its arms, which are open to him as though offering an embrace. And it’s _very_ furry. Even more so than Julian, which is saying something.

He briefly considers calling security, but decides that may be a little hasty: after all, it has so far made no move to attack him. But he doesn’t take his eyes off it as he climbs around it and out of the bed, picking his clothes up off the floor – which of course includes the knife in his belt, the handle of which he grips – and carries the bundle into the living room, where he dresses quickly and leaves Julian’s quarters.

**

It has been a long day, a very long day indeed, Julian thinks as he flops down onto the chair in his office, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

The _Defiant_ had gone out to escort a ship carrying a delegation from the Nerati system in the Gamma quadrant back to Deep Space Nine, and along the way had come under attack from a squadron of Jem’Hadar battleships – and had survived by the skin of their teeth, resulting in heavy casualties on both ships. It had taken four hours to triage and treat all the patients, and thirty of the Defiant’s crew, as well as twelve Neratans, had been lost.

“Thank you,” he says to Nurse Muldaur when she wordlessly brings him a cup of Tarkalean tea, sipping the drink. She nods in response and leaves him alone, and he sighs. He should probably eat something, he realises, but it’s another half hour before he musters up the energy to get to his feet and leaves the infirmary.

On his way to Quark’s, he stops by Elim’s shop, where he finds his lover tacking around the edge of what looks set to become a bag.

“Ah, my dear,” Elim looks up when he enters, and smiles widely. Julian goes straight to him and kisses him lightly on the cheek.

“I’m just going to get some dinner, would you care to join me?”

“And abandon this work of art I’m in the middle of creating?” Elim asks. “I’d be delighted.”

“I’m glad. I could use the company.”

“Troubling day?”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“What happened?”

“You know I’m not going to discuss it with you,” Julian says, feeling a smile creep onto his lips for the first time since he’d got the call from Ops telling him to prepare for casualties.

An arm slides around his back and pulls him closer to Elim, and their lips meet for a moment, and when they part it’s not by very much, smiles on both of their faces now.

“Of course, it’s classified,” Elim says, smirking a little. “I’m sure I can wheedle it out of you tonight – that is, if you desire a repeat performance?”

“No,” Julian shakes his head. “I mean yes, well – yes, I desire a repeat performance, no you won’t be able to get any classified information out of me in the process.”

“We shall see,” he says, smiling his more predaceous of smiles, but he won’t try it – their relationship is on flimsy political ground already, and Julian knows Elim knows that and wouldn’t risk destroying the little acceptance others had offered them over information he could easily hack out of the station’s database anyway.

*

The meal had been nice – the bar had been fairly quiet, much to the chagrin of its proprietor. Julian had plead too tired for an avid literature discussion, so instead he’d listened while Elim recounted today’s particularly interesting and probably mostly untrue tailoring adventures.

They were walking along the corridor of the habitat ring and are just around the corner from Julian’s quarters when Elim stops walking, and stares at Julian’s door like it is on fire.

“Is everything okay?” Julian asks.

“Perhaps we should continue on to my quarters,” Elim suggests.

“If you wish, just let me get a few things.”

“I wouldn’t advise it.”

“Is something the matter?” Julian asks, looking back at Elim, becoming concerned.

Elim looks as though he is weighing up whether or not to tell him. “When I woke up this morning,” he begins finally. “there was some kind of creature watching me. It may still be there.”

“Did it try to hurt you?” Julian asks, concerned, though wondering if this is all some ruse.

“No, it just _stared_ at me.”

Surely they would have detected it in Ops and they’d have notified him, Julian thinks. Whatever it is, he wants his quarters back eventually, he might as well confront the creature now before it makes itself too much at home.

“You don’t need to fear, I’ll protect you,” he takes on a valiant tone, throwing his arm out dramatically and grinning at Elim. “If you want you can wait out here,” he says, keying in his access code and entering the room without a backwards glance. He hears Elim’s rapid footsteps catch up to him.

There is no sign of a creature in the living area, so he makes his way into the sleeping area and peeks around the door. He sees no creature there, either.

“It must be gone,” he says. “Assuming there was a creature at all.”

“Would I make up such a thing?” Elim asks innocently, joining him in the doorway. “It’s still here. it hasn’t moved.”

“I don’t see it,” Julian says.

“On the pillow.”

He looks at the pillow, where Kukalaka is perched after Julian rescued him from the floor this morning, and… oh. He finds himself laughing, just a little at first until he is shaking uncontrollably. Eventually he regains his composure and looks at Elim, who’s expression says thoroughly confused, as though he’s not aware of his own joke.

“I fail to see what you find so funny.” Elim says. “It could have killed me in my sleep, could have killed either of us.”

 _He really wasn’t joking_ , Julian realises. He goes over to the cuddly bear and picks it up. “This? This is just Kukalaka.”

“A what?” Elim asks.

“Kukalaka.” Julian repeats, sitting down on the bed and lets the bear fall into his lap. “He’s just a child’s toy. He’s not even alive.”

A tinge of embarrassment creeps across Elim’s features as he slowly crosses the room to sit beside Julian, leaning into him slightly with one hand pressed on the mattress just behind Julian. “Why do you have a toy which looks so vicious?” he asks.

“Vicious?” Julian asks, examining Kukalaka’s face, and not seeing it. “He’s kinda cute.”

Elim shakes his head in disagreement. “Is it to be a present for Chief O’Brien’s daughter?” he asks.

“No, he’s mine actually, he…” he falters, not wanting to go into the reasons for Kukalaka’s importance to him in depth. “I’ve had him all my life, I must have stitched him up at least a hundred times.”

“And he’s not going to kill me?” Elim was still looking at Kukalaka with a little suspicion.

“I promise,” Julian says, then, after considering it for several seconds, holds him out to Elim, despite knowing that his lover couldn’t possibly know the significance of the gesture, the trust he was placing in him allowing him to hold Kukalaka, or that he’d not allowed anyone else to do that, ever, since he’d left his parents’ home, or the flutter of anxiety that temporarily took root in his heart when Kukalaka left his hands.

“I think I could get used to him,” Elim says, holding Kukalaka with such care that Julian could scarcely believe what he was seeing.

“Good, because we’re a package deal,” Julian says, leaning his head against Elim’s.

“A what?”

“Package deal – love me, love Kukalaka. He’s my oldest – ” he almost says ‘friend’, but catches the word on his tongue. It’s accurate in a way, but saying it would mean explaining it, and he doesn’t want to, not tonight. “He’s my oldest possession, and where I go, he goes.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to separate you,” Elim says, and there is an undeniable sincerity in his tone; the one he takes on when he really, completely means something. Julian has only heard it three times. Somehow, he suspects Elim might end up learning a lot more of the bear’s history than Julian ever thought he’d reveal to anyone. But for now, he’s said enough.

“So, about that repeat performance,” he says, taking Kukalaka from Elim and sitting him down on his bedside table. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: not related to the content of the story but the Worf/Odo art I mentioned in the start notes can now be found [here](https://lionowlonao3.tumblr.com/post/156003235551/plain-simple-pris-i-love-that-im-afraid-my-art). I love it so much!! I can just imagine Odo spending hours in the holosuite with a bat'leth and a mirror practising, and Jadzia helping him


End file.
